I'm Sorry, Mary Anne
by oneoneohohone
Summary: as he walks home, logan ponders what he has just done. prequel to 'before we grow up.' oneshot.


_a/n - if you haven't read 'before we grow up' - at least, the fisrt chapter of it - this may appear a little confusing. it's kinda graphic and stuff, or maybe not really but i would just like to say how much i don't like logan bruno ;) ...anyway my reasoning behind all the prequels is simply a short attention span as well as boredom, the others will be updated soon enough. _

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There's no turning back. No changing the past, no matter how soon it is. There is only what you have done, nothing else. And what did you do? Are you even sure? Do you know what happened? Are you lying to yourself? Meaning to do it and losing your head are two different things, right? It was so hard. You've waited so long, and she... she made you wait. And wait. And wait. You could have gone somewhere else, but you didn't. You waited. Nearly four years you waited. It was on your mind the first time you saw her, the first time you caught a glimpse of her in the hall. Of course, you waited then. It was too soon. Then waiting became normal. She's a good girl. Did she want to wait until she was married? She'd never really said. So you set up tonight, and hinted at her what was on your mind, for the millionth time. And she said okay. Just like that. Okay. Let's do it. Finally. She said yes. 

What happened, then? You danced with her, and you could feel her getting nervous, but she was also excited. She was whispering sweetness to you and occasionally brushing her hand across the front of your tux pants suggestively. That's how you knew she wanted it. In the limo, she was grabbing you even more, more than she ever had in your entire relationship. You could barely handle it. Thinking about other stupid shit, trying to get your mind off of words like "premature" and "short"... just trying to have fun. Hoping that _she_ was having fun. Worried that she wouldn't like it, scared you were going to hurt her. You just planned to be slow and gentle, be loving. Because you love her. You've always loved her.

When you got to the room she started going crazy. Like you've never seen her. She'd undone your shirt so fast she broke a button. She turned her back to you so you could unzip her dress. The dress fell to the floor in a puddle of satin and you had taken in her body. You've seen her in a bikini, but this is different. Because you knew the rest was coming off. And it did. She unhooked her bra and dropped it to the ground. Shen she'd rushed to you and kissed you, giggling and fiddling with your belt, and all you could think about was her bare skin touching yours. Until you realized your pants were around your ankles. Then she'd stepped back again, obviously into the game of "you, than me." That was when something changed. Her cheeks started getting red, that same red they'd gotten the first time you kissed her, the first time you'd put your hand up her shirt, the first time you'd unbuttoned her jeans and slid the zipper down slowly. You associated the redness with arousal, maybe a little bit of embarassment. She'd hesitated, her fingers hooked into the sides of those pretty lace underwear.

So you decided to give her a little more time. After all, you were still wearing your boxers. So you simply took her in your arms, laid her down in the bed, and started kissing her everywhere. After mere seconds she started giggling again. She got especially giggly when you started kissing her on top of her panties. Then she'd tensed suddenly, and you felt her tug your hair. You teased her again, trailing kisses all the way up her belly, chest, and throat, until you met her mouth in the hottest, most passionate kiss you've ever shared with her. She made this sound, this little squeak/moan thing, and you nearly lost it. So you brought your hands to her panties, still kissing her, and began to slide them off. She didn't stop you. She didn't say no. Your boxers were off like a shot, so fast you wondered how you did it. And you kissed her again, wanting to go slow, for her.

You had to stop to put the condom on, and even then she'd just stared at you, right in the eyes, breathing heavily. Her eyes said "now, now, now!" She wanted it.

And so, with the condom sucure, you had moved to guide yourself in. You were looking down, so you didn't see her face. You didn't see if it changed. The moment - the _second_ - yours touched hers, she said it. She said your name. You'd looked up, frustrated, and saw that her face was now different. It was filled with sadness, a little regret. You asked her what, what was it, a little irritated. Ready. And she'd shook her head, saying no, no, she couldn't do it, she was sorry, but she couldn't. She wanted to wait. She felt she was still too young. That we both were.

And then what? It got kind of fuzzy, there. You don't know if you said anything of just ignored her, but suddenly you were inside of her, and she looked stunned, her eyes wide, already filling with tears. She said your name so many times, whined the word "no..." so many times, said stop... but you didn't. Then she'd tried to push you away from her but you'd held her arms down and yelled... maybe screamed at her to shut up. You didn't go for very long, probably too much buildup. But she sure did manage to say no a lot. By the time you were done, she was simply laying beneath you, looking toward the wall, tears streaming down her face.

When you were done she'd rolled over and curled into a ball, sobbing. Not crying, sobbing. The kind of sobbing you do when nobody else is around, when someone has died. She wailed. You simply sat on the edge of the bed, your feet on the floor, still naked, and wondering what you are, what you just did, and why you did it. How did it happen? What were you thinking?

After a few minutes, maybe five, her sobs subsided to mere sniffling with the occasional moan. You leaned over and said her name. She didn't hear you. Or she ignored you. Then you had put your hand on her hip and said it again. She just shuddered and started that wailing again. She couldn't seem to stop. You couldn't take it anymore. You just threw on your clothes and walked out the door. Left her. And now you're walking home.

Are you a monster? Are you a rapist? _Why didn't you say you're sorry?_

Are you sorry?

There's no turning back. No changing the past, no matter how soon it is. There is only what you have done, nothing else. And what did you do? Are you even sure? Do you know what happened? Are you lying to yourself? Meaning to do it and losing your head are two different things, right?


End file.
